


Forgive Me

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Priest Castiel, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d done the unthinkable. He’d broken vows. Sacred vows. All for this.</p><p>All for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive Me

He’d done the unthinkable. He’d broken vows. Sacred vows. All for this.

All for her.

Her fingers dug into the back of the pew as she ground down on him, her thighs tight on either side of his hips.The ripped stockings felt like silk on his hands and Castiel turned his head to lick at the breast closest to his mouth. He made a sound when she swayed away and grabbed hold of her breast, leading her forward so he could suck on her nipple. Every now and then, he would feel her inner muscles clench harder around his cock like a nipping kiss.

"Mm, not bad, Father." 

"Don’t call me that when we do this," he muttered, biting a little to chastise her. Meg laughed, her dark hair falling in her face.

"Doesn’t change a thing." She moaned and reached down to stroke herself. Castiel leaned back to watch, his mouth going dry at the sight. "You’re still fucking me. Broken vows and all, _Father_.”

He made a small sound, thrust his hips up higher so he lifted her almost off of him. Meg felt the scrape of wood on her knees and laughed, but didn’t stop touching her clit.

"You like it too. Getting these black robes all dirty, huh?"

He wanted to deny it but it was hard to when he smelled of perfume and sex, when he had almost pulled her onto him when her seduction had finally hit its boiling point after the last  church meeting. He was just as much a sinner as she was. She just admitted it easier than he did.

_She was a sinner. This was wrong. Wrong… hot… so wet…. He could drown in her like this._

_It wouldn’t matter if it was suicide or not._

_He had never felt like this before._

His black robes, open to the navel, were soaked now with sweat and he could feel them scratching at his skin. Castiel rolled his head to the side, used his hips to move her harder on him. The woman moved with abandon, grinding harder onto him so he could feel the wetness of her. But when he opened his eyes he saw his white collar on the bench beside them, lying on her red satin panties.

Panties he had ripped off of her just after she’d teasingly thrown his collar off.

Meg looked as well and laughed. Castiel turned his head and looked up at her. The dark haired woman looked incredible, her black garter belt and torn stockings the only decorations she needed to look like sin itself. Unable to tell himself to stop, he reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing her nipples. Meg moaned and rocked harder, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"Not bad, baby." He pinched a little, until the skin turned red and he heard her moans turn to delighted squeals. "So… bad."

 _Castiel wanted her to say his name again; he didn’t want her to say ‘Father’ or any other nickname. No one had dared use his name in years since he’d taken this parish._  

He gripped her hair and felt her shudder when he pulled her down, wanting her mouth again. But Castiel only felt her lips brush his when she spoke again,

"Too quiet. No one is here if you want to moan. I bet you could scream for forgiveness, if you want it."

_I don’t want forgiveness._

The thought should have appalled him but he felt like he was drowning in how wet she was, her breasts just against his chin and her thighs holding him down. The pressure was building, straight from the small of his back to the top of his head and he wanted it more than anything. Meg’s hand moved between them, this time to grab hold of his crucifix and tug him up into her.

Her mouth was as hot as she was, just as wet and seductive, and he moaned into her kiss. His arms moved to wrap around her waist and he turned her under him, not caring as they tumbled off the pew to the floor under it. Meg moaned, her legs curling up around his hips and he tasted the whimpering sounds she started to make against his lips as he drove harder and harder into her. With his arms braced over her, watching her face contort in pleasure and her eyes stay shut, he knew he’d thoroughly broken his own vows.

_He loved this instead of hating it._

Then she was shoving him over and riding him harder than he had ridden her, driving up and down in a rhythm he pushed himself to follow. Every nerve in his body ached and throbbed, wanting more and feeling so hungry for it. Even when he cupped her breasts and felt her skin, it didn’t feel like it would ever be enough.

"Meg. Meg." He couldn’t stop himself from whispering her name like a litany, with the same devoted tone he would use during his morning Mass. Or from staring at her with the same wonder he’d once looked at the Sistine Chapel with. It was hard to remember if there’d been something as darkly beautiful as this woman and the way she arched her back and took him deeper. 

He felt himself exploding, pushed deep into her to make it last, and felt her body buck again him. The low moans, the way she tried to take more of him in, made him thrust hard one last time, hearing her startled cry as she came, her cunt convulsing around his cock and making him moan out her name again. That pleasure spiked through him as he heard her stuttering out another long, low moan.

"Ca-Ca-Castiel."

He closed his eyes as she collapsed on top of him, sweat slick and sticky in his arms. As Castiel sucked in deep lungfuls of air, he felt her move, roll her hips a little. She made soft moans whenever he touched her and he liked the sounds almost as much as her saying his real name.

Then she was standing up, on shaky legs, leaving him cold on the floor. She stared down at him, naked and Castiel pushed himself up on his elbows to watch her dress. She hitched her skirt back up and fixed her torn shirt as best as she could and he still couldn’t move.

She winked. “See you Sunday, Father. You can take it back then from me. If you want.”

That seductive drawl and her smoky laugh left him staring after her, still on the floor, still confused and baffled by what they’d done. His hand went to his neck and he realized she’d taken his silver necklace and its crucifix from him.

It was why during his opening prayers on Sunday, when he had caught sight of her in the front row, that he went hard almost instantly. Meg looked as bored as any in the small parish but with his crucifix displayed on the top of her lowcut blouse the message was clear. He could barely take his eyes away from the sight of her.

Castiel reminded himself to lecture her on the sins of stealing later.


End file.
